


There Comes A Clarity

by Purpleyin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, One Shot, Past Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Milah, Set over several years, Some angst, Tattoos, The Enchanted Forest, canon divergent somewhere in S3, doubtful Killian, initially UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 04:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14096844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpleyin/pseuds/Purpleyin
Summary: Tattoo focused fic with the evolution of their relationship over several years. Short S3ish AU that starts with Emma and Killian  questing in the Enchanted Forest - Killian returns from a lone sojourn somewhere nearby with a meaningful new tattoo.





	There Comes A Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this back in 2014 but was nervous about posting it since it was the first Emma/Killian I'd written, so I think this was intended to be a fic set somewhere in S3 when it looked like everyone might return to the Enchanted Forest, including Emma/Killian. So it's definitely canon divergent as they are initially off in the forest on their own unspecified quest.
> 
> Also, this fic is not realistic in terms of modern tattoo care but I honestly am not sure what pirates used to do for new tattoos and who knows what happens in a magical realm for that, so please forgive me there.

Emma finds a new tattoo on Hook when he returns to her from his idea of recon - sneaking off alone for a whole day. It's hidden initially by his long sleeves and the ever present leather coat. When they stop beside a stream to fill up their water bottles and then wash for the first time in days, he reluctantly takes off his coat and crouches down low to dip a rag into the water.

Keeping watch to one side, she catches sight of the sudden wince from him as he tries in vain to free the fabric of his shirt sleeve from the tangle of a dangling bramble without losing his balance. Thinking him injured by a literal thorn in his side - and likely to fall flat on his face into the stream if he's unlucky - she ignores his protests, coming to his rescue. She has him free easily enough with her advantage of a steady stance and then manhandles him to standing before she proceeds to roll up the sleeve to inspect the damage, which is not at all the type of wound she expected to see.

The line work sits above the straps on his hook arm - a sword piercing a heart and the graceful sweep of swans wings either side. Room enough for something in the scroll at the top.

"It's incomplete," she notes with interest.

"So's our story, Emma." he says solemnly, not using her surname to distance them for once, "If you want us to have one, together that is."

She traces tenderly around the wings drawn for her name, carefully avoiding the still raw skin where it was pierced and inked. He means it for her of course and she already knew, the symbolism not lost on her, but now a weight sinks in, burdening her with that knowledge.

"What would you do if I didn't? Tattoo's are permanent even here, aren't they?"

He nods clearly, indicating he's heard her, yet avoids her gaze. He shrugs his coat on again and mounts his horse in silence. She sighs, giving up. If he doesn't want to answer, if he'd rather avoid discussing it, then so be it. She gets ready to mount her own horse, letting him fester in silence but he finally replies as she finds her level with him.

"Whatever your choice, it changes nothing of what I've lived in the time I've known you. In my heart, I'd regret nothing."

And then he rides off, choosing to focus on the task ahead. Avoidance. Leaving her to consider his words, his choice. It's been clear from the start he chooses her and it shouldn't make her chest constrict more than a little to know all of this. But it does. She rides on too, catching up to him, choosing silence too.

 

* * *

 

He never does get the scroll filled in, only the red of the heart shaded deeper. Years later he ponders aloud if he ought to add the intended lettering but she stops him.

"We're not done yet, are we?" she questions and he takes that to be a 'don't' it seems.

His tattoo for Milah has always felt like a monument to her, a substitute for a gravestone where her grave is the whole ocean he'd sailed for centuries. That made Emma wonder for a long time if the second heart tattoo, ostensibly for her, was meant to be the same. Was it designed as a testament to his undying love no matter what or meant to mourn for a love that he expected to die on his lips, unreturned? Only it hadn't been, unreturned. Slow to burn, but the spark they had had ignited embers long before the fire was strong enough to warm, before it grew so that any and all could see it. They both know better now, they both feel it now, undeniably.

 

* * *

 

Emma gets her own tattoo. The second of her life. A multi-strand beanstalk curling around her wrist, thick and strong for a bond she'll never forget no matter what. Killian leans over suddenly to stop her wrist when he spies it, eyes affixed as he runs his thumb along her skin at the edge of it, almost tracing the design reverently but just about avoiding where it hurts.

"That's quite a statement you're making Swan."

She knows sometimes he still doubts she wants him truly, thinks that she will realise she made a mistake in choosing him. It isn't often anymore that she catches him in such a mood but she can hear the fear in the fact he questions this at all.

"I could go back and get the skull and crossbones done as well if you think I ought to go the whole hog."

He lets her wrist go, eyes dark, brow furrowed with annoyance and turns away. She hadn't meant to trivialise her actions but she hates being second guessed like that. He should know her better, this is what she wants.

"You won't regret it?" he asks softly, keeping his face out of view to guard his reaction to her reply.

"What's to regret. This is history and now it's part of me."

"It's part of our story," he says, voice still soft but tone changing to hopeful.

"I know," she replies in a huff, more than a little exasperated he's being so slow today.

"Oh," comes the simple response. He pivots himself back to her, face unguarded now, a mix of awe and surprise that grows into a full on grin as she confirms it.

"Yes, 'oh' you dufus. Why else would I do this?"

She pulls him close by his lapels and kisses him slowly, deliberately tender. He doesn't push for more on this occasion, he simply rests his forehead against hers, eyes locked onto her eyes with a small smile she can sense more than see – contentment coloring his features.

The books she read as a child always told of one grand happy ending, like going out with a bang, fireworks in multicolor but all the fizzle used up on that moment. Emma much prefers what she's found to be true. Hers is a story that is ongoing, etched and forged in the types of moments her father told her about.

Every one of those moments helps to draw together a picture with good and bad alike to color it in. This reality means everything shared, making every bright spot brighter, known and appreciated, not taken for granted. Emma doesn't know if she believes in happy endings, she's much more interested in savouring things as they come along, stroke by stroke. All she can say with certainty is right here and now she is happy.

 

 


End file.
